


Rhinestone Chucks

by SharkGirl



Series: Rhinestone Chucks [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Never Met, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Dry Humping, EmiMike, Grinding, Kissing, Lap dancing, M/M, MichEmil, SaraMila (mentioned), Stripper AU, Stripper!Emil, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-31 13:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10900053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: “But Mickey.” She stuck her lower lip out. “You promised.”“I promised I would take you out somewhere nice, not to this, this-” Michele gesticulated wildly, “this den of sin!”EmiMike Stripper!AU.





	1. Michele

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This started out as a request by the fantabulous @lizardcool17 on tumblr and, well...it grew from there!  
> Thanks to everyone who supported this little drabble (turned multi-chapter fic) I hope everyone who hasn't read it yet enjoys it! ♥

Michele was not happy. This was not what he had in mind when he’d offered to take Sara out tonight.

As it turned out, she and Mila visited these places often. He didn’t understand the draw. Did happily dating couples typically go and watch other people dance around half naked? Well, apparently his sister and her girlfriend did.

He didn’t realize the type of establishment to which his sister was happily dragging him until they made it to the front entrance.

“A strip club?!” He shouted, eyes going impossibly wide. Several of the people outside turned toward him, their conversations ending abruptly.

“Yes, ‘a strip club’,” Sara replied in a harsh whisper. “I told you three times in the cab.” She rolled her eyes and wrapped a hand around his wrist. “Now, hurry and get inside. You’re causing a scene.”

“I will do no such thing!” Michele pulled his arm free and gave his best stern look.

“But Mickey.” She stuck her lower lip out. “You promised.”

“I promised I would take you out somewhere nice, not to this, this-” Michele gesticulated wildly, “this den of sin!”

“Oh, Mickey.” She shook her head. “Mila and I come here all the time.” She looped her arms around one of his and led him back toward the door. “And, since she’s out of town and you promised to cheer me up…”

Michele didn’t want to go inside. But he _had_ promised her. She’d looked so sad when she ended her video chat with Mila and he couldn’t stand seeing his baby sister cry.

But going into a strip club, of all places? He’d never set foot in one! What was he supposed to do? Did everyone dance or just the strippers? Was he supposed to tip them? What if one _touched_ him?

“Stop thinking so loud.” Sara chuckled. “You’ll distract the dancers.” Then she dragged him the rest of the way inside.

Michele was surprised at how _nice_ the place looked. It wasn’t like one of the seedy holes in movies, hives where gangsters traded drugs and sex for money. No. It looked like a regular bar one might find in the lobby of a fancy hotel.

Well, except for the stage in the center.

“You sit here.” Sara directed him to a chair next the foot of the stage and pushed down on his shoulders until he was seated. “I’ll go get us something to drink.” She started to walk off and then stopped, turning back toward him. “Stay.”

He frowned as she laughed and made her way to the bar.

“I’m not a dog.” His frown deepened. Then, without any warning, the lights dimmed. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the low light. “What’s happening now?”

“Next up on the main stage,” a voice crackled over a loud speaker. “You know him. You love him.”

“Ugh…” Michele groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s give a warm welcome to our very own, Emil!”

Now, Michele would have been content - or at least mildly appeased - to sit there and stare at the tabletop until his sister returned. He was already thinking of reasons they should leave.

But then Emil stepped out onto the stage. The cool blue of the spotlight made his pale skin look almost ethereal. He was wearing a tight-fitting top, its sequins catching the light, and shorts that revealed smooth yet powerful-looking legs.

He waved to the audience, flashing a perfect smile. Michele normally didn’t care for facial hair, but this man wore his well. In fact, there was something about Emil’s unique blend of sparkling elegance and rugged masculinity that kept Michele from looking away.

“Oh, Emil’s up.” Sara’s voice startled him. He jumped and whipped his head to face her. 

“What?”

“Emil,” she repeated simply, shrugging her shoulders. “He’s the most popular one here, I’d say.” She offered him one of the drinks, setting the other down on the table in front of her.

“You know him?” Michele asked, trying to seem less interested than he was, though he’d missed his straw three times.

“Why?” Sara gave him a knowing smile. It was almost devious. “You want a private dance?”


	2. Michele

Michele loved his sister. He really did. More than anything. But at the moment, he was about ready to strangle her.

How could she do this to him? All he’d done was inquired as to whether or not she was familiar with the - admittedly handsome - dancer on the stage, and then she was calling him over, waving an arm in huge sweeps to get his attention.

It worked, of course, because who on Earth could resist Sara’s charm? 

Emil stopped, right in the middle of unzipping his skin-tight, sequined top, and waved to her, throwing a quick thumbs up before going back to his routine.

It seemed like that was the end of it, but, judging by the way Sara sat back down and folded her hands in her lap, a pleased smile on her lips, Michele knew it was far from over.

And, sure enough, when Emil finished his dance - one so erotic, it left Michele squirming in his seat, his cheeks still burning and his pants tight - the taller man walked off the stage, covered in a sheen of sweat that glistened under the pale lights, and walked straight over to their table.

“Sara, it’s good to see you!” he greeted, like it was completely normal for a man to do so wearing only a tiny pair of spandex shorts and sparkling, rhinestone-encrusted Chucks. “Where’s Mila tonight?”

“She’s out of town on business,” Sara replied with a slight pout - again, how was she able to talk normally when this built man was practically naked in front of her? “But she sends her love.”

“Good to know.” Emil smiled, still panting a bit as he caught his breath from performing. Then he turned toward Michele, his deep blue eyes friendly and warm. “And who is this?”

“This is my brother I was telling you about,” she introduced him, gesturing toward Michele. “I’m sure you remember-”

“So, this is the famous Mickey.” He stepped into Michele’s personal space, smelling of sweat, a spicy cologne, and something uniquely Emil that made Michele’s heart skip a beat and caused the heat from earlier to return and pool in his belly. “I’ve been wanting to meet you.” Emil grinned widely like a child, but his height and broad shoulders spoke of his maturity.

Michele tried his best to look him in the eye, but it was hard when the other man’s naked chest was bared before him. A drop of sweat caught his eye, trailing down Emil’s neck before getting caught for just a moment on his clavicle and then sliding the rest of the way down toward his bellybutton. Stupidly - and rather nonsensically - Michele found himself wanting to taste it.

“…if you wouldn’t mind.”

Sara’s voice snapped Michele out of his daze. He blinked a few times before shifting his gaze between the two, unsure what to say when they both looked over at him expectantly.

“So, what do you say, Mickey?” she asked.

Say? What did he say? What did she _ask_?

“Uh…”

“I’m free, so I’m fine with it, if he is,” Emil answered, that deep blue gaze on Michele once again. “So, how about it, Mickey?”

“How about what?” He drew his brows down, both frustrated at his own cluelessness and annoyed at the other man’s use of his childhood nickname.

“Ugh! Were you even listening?” Sara rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Mickey, I just…” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in a very Michele-like manner. “Just take him, Emil.”

“Take me?” Michele frowned. “Take me where-”

“Right this way, Mickey,” Emil sang, linking their arms and dragging him away from the table. “Sara’s a friend, so this one’s free of charge.”

“What are you talking about?” Michele asked and then added, “And just _how friendly_ are you with my sister?”

But Emil didn’t answer him. He just chuckled and continued leading him toward one of the dark velvet curtains on the other side of the club.

“To be honest,” Emil admitted as he pulled the drape out of the way and led Michele inside, “even if Sara wasn’t one of our regulars, I wouldn’t have charged you for this.”

“For what?” Michele asked, yanking his arm free. But it was then that he noticed the upholstered chair behind Emil, putting that together with the privacy curtain and what Sara had teasingly offered earlier while Emil was on stage…

_‘You want a private dance?’_

“Oh, _mio dio_ …” He swallowed and Emil took his hand, guiding him toward the chair and gently pressing down on his shoulders until Michele’s legs gave out and he took a seat. “Emil…”

“I saw you watching me, Mickey,” he breathed, cheeks tinting pink. Michele would have wondered about Emil’s out of place shyness  - considering his profession - but he was too busy watching the way the other’s flush spread down his neck and over his chest. “Did you like what you saw?”

Michele swallowed again, tearing his gaze away from the pale skin and looking into Emil’s eyes, which were darker than before. He knew he could leave. Nothing was stopping him from getting out of the chair, marching back over to Sara, and demanding that they go home.

But…he didn’t want to. And, when Emil straddled his legs, one hand gripping the back of the chair to keep him hovering just above the tops of Michele’s thighs, and the other grasping his wrist and pulling his hand forward, inviting him to caress his bare chest, well, suddenly, leaving was the last thing on Michele’s mind.


	3. Emil

Emil knew there was something special about tonight. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt giddy before his performance. Even the other dancers remarked on how - even though he was always a bottle of carbonated sunshine ready to pop - he seemed even cheerier than usual.

Of course, once he walked out on stage, he realized why. He saw one of his regulars, Sara, right away. He often gave her and her girlfriend extra attention, since the two were very friendly and tipped well. But tonight, Sara was not seated beside Mila. Instead, she was sitting next to the most beautiful man Emil had ever laid his eyes on.

It was dark and the lights shining on him didn’t make it easy, but he recognized him. He’d seen him before, in the pictures on Sara’s phone. Of course, the man beside her wasn’t smiling gleefully like in their selfies or looking grumpy as he did in candid shots. He looked…surprised? Interested?

Emil could only hope. 

But he didn’t have time to dwell on that. The music grew louder, the bass thumping, pulsing from the stage under his rhinestone Chucks - his favorite pair - and up through his legs until he felt the beat match his heart’s.

He smirked and started his dance.

On-stage Emil and Off-stage Emil weren’t too different, honestly. Most of the other’s had a persona they put on, while he played the role of himself. Though, he did feel sexier with the club’s patrons hooting and hollering at him.

He stopped grinding for a moment, tapping his heel to keep the beat as he unzipped his shirt, peeling it away from his damp skin. He paused mid-zip when he caught Sara waving out of the corner of his eye. 

Emil turned to face her and saw her mouthing the word ‘After’ before he nodded and gave her a thumbs up. Then he removed his shirt and tossed it to the side, sliding a hand down his chest and stomach toward his shorts - his shortest pair - which he was glad he’d donned tonight, since he’d gotten quite a few compliments on his legs and he really wanted to impress Sara’s brother.

He was eager to finish his routine. The song seemed to go on forever, though he did enjoy it. Every-so-often, he’d glance over at their table. The first few times, the other man had been sipping his drink and looking down, but finally, Emil caught him staring. Feeling an unfamiliar mix of pride and nervousness, Emil licked his lips and redoubled his efforts, turning out what he’d hoped was enough to impress _The_ Michele Crispino.

When he was finished, he collected his audience’s offerings and made his way over to their table, the giddiness from earlier nearly bubbling over.

“Sara, it’s good to see you!” he greeted her first, trying not to seem overeager. “Where’s Mila tonight?”

“She’s out of town on business,” Sara replied with a slight pout. “But she sends her love.”

“Good to know.” Emil took a few breaths in through his mouth. He’d overdone it a bit on stage and his heart was still hammering. Then he turned toward the other man, hoping his face wasn’t too red. “And who is this?”

“This is my brother I was telling you about,” she introduced him, gesturing toward Michele. “I’m sure you remember-”

Of course, he remembered. “So, this is the famous Mickey.” He looked even better up close. Sara’s photos didn’t do him justice. “I’ve been wanting to meet you,” he said with a grin.

Michele could barely look him in the eye and Emil thought that, perhaps, he’d overstepped.

Sara went on, congratulating Emil on another flawless performance. And then she said something he hadn’t been expecting. “I think Mickey might like a private dance…if you wouldn’t mind.”

Emil bit his lower lip to keep from beaming. Michele was interested in him? Well, interested enough to ask for a dance? Perhaps he’d been right about tonight being special.

“So, what do you say, Mickey?” she asked her brother, who, at the moment, resembled a deer in the headlights.

“Uh…”

Clearly he was nervous. Even if Sara hadn’t told him it was Michele’s first time in a strip club, it was written all over his face. He figured he should help him out. “I’m free, so I’m fine with it, if he is,” he offered. “So, how about it, Mickey?”

“How about what?” Michele drew his brows down, instantly transforming from Nervous First-Timer to Angry Older Brother.  
  
Sara berated him for not listening and then gave up with a slight huff. “Just take him, Emil.”

And that was his cue.

He may have let his eagerness take over as he linked arms with Michele and walked him over toward one of the dark velvet curtains on the other side of the club, promising him there’d be no charge.

But he couldn’t help himself. Ever since Sara had befriended him, she’d done nothing but talk about her shy, homebody of an older brother who ‘needed to get out more’ and who was ‘definitely your type, Emil!’

And, boy, was she ever right.

“To be honest,” Emil admitted as he pulled the drape out of the way and led Michele inside, “even if Sara wasn’t one of our regulars, I wouldn’t have charged you for this.”

“For what?” Michele asked, yanking his arm free. He frowned, but then his eyes widened and Emil followed his gaze over to the upholstered chair behind them.

Chuckling at the other’s soft curse, Emil reached for his hand, guiding him toward the chair and gently pressing down on his shoulders until Michele sat down. “Emil…”

Hearing Michele say his name did something to him. He tried to keep from flushing, but it was hard when he thought back to how Michele had watched him on stage. Those gorgeous violet eyes taking in every movement.

“I saw you watching me, Mickey,” he breathed, cheeks tinting pink. He felt like a high school kid talking to his first crush. But he could do this. He licked his lips and continued. “Did you like what you saw?”

Michele swallowed again, his gaze, which had settled on Emil’s chest, shot back up to meet his. He looked even better then, his eyes dark and his lips slightly parted.

This wasn’t Emil’s first time giving a private dance, but he suddenly felt a bit nervous, himself. Still, he wanted to impress Michele. He wanted this man to like him. He wanted this man. Something he’d never felt before with someone he’d only just met.

Emil straddled him, one hand gripping the chair to keep the backs of his thighs hovering just over Michele’s legs, and the other grasping Michele’s wrist and pulling his hand forward. He sucked in a breath when the pads of the other’s fingers brushed over his skin, still damp with sweat from his performance and the hot lights.

Michele pressed his palm forward, splaying his fingers and feeling his way along Emil’s chest. Then he did something unexpected. When he reached a nipple, he gave it a pinch, taking Emil by surprise.

“Mickey…!” he hissed, throwing his head back and grinding forward, ghosting over the other’s crotch. Close, but not close enough.

“Emil…” Michele replied, voice suddenly much deeper. He lowered his hands to Emil’s hips, where he let them rest, gripping tightly, but not too tight.

Oh, how nice it would be to lower himself completely. To press their bodies together if only just for a moment. Just to take the edge off. To calm the heat that was building in Emil’s belly. The heat that was building between them.

But Emil had to be strong. Dry humping wasn’t _technically_  against club rules, but it definitely wasn’t part of Emil’s repertoire.

And he was doing a good job of pantomiming what he truly wanted to do.

That was, until Michele’s grip on his hips tightened and the other man thrust up, closing the distance between them and eliciting a loud, startled moan.


	4. Michele

Michele splayed his fingers, feeling his way across Emil’s chest, the pads easily sliding over the still-damp and glistening skin. He moistened his lips, swallowing when he drew closer to the other’s nipple. It was hard, probably from the cool air in the room hitting his hot, naked flesh.

Without thinking, Michele reached for it, pinching the pebbled nub and drawing out a surprised hiss from the other man.

“Mickey...!” Emil threw his head back, grinding his hips uselessly on the air between them. If only he was a little closer, then...

“Emil...” Michele replied, taken aback by how deep his own voice sounded. He lowered his hands to Emil’s hips, where he let them rest, silently urging the man above him to move closer. 

It was odd. He’d never felt this way about someone he’d only just met. But here he was, seated beneath the most handsome, scantily clad man he’d ever had the pleasure of encountering, more aroused than he’d ever remembered being, and no longer able to recall why he’d wanted to leave in the first place.

Emil continued moving then, still hovering above him, close, but not close enough. The way his hips gyrated was hypnotic, their fluidity flawless and infuriating all at once.

He was too far away. Michele wanted him closer. Wanted to feel the other’s body flush against his. And so, on the next forward motion, Michele pulled Emil’s hips down, thrusting up to meet them halfway and eliciting a loud, startled moan.

They stared at each other, eyes wide. And it was then that Michele realized the sound had come from his own mouth.

He tore his hands away as though he’d been burned, choosing instead to grip onto the sides of the upholstered chair on which he sat. “Emil...I...”

What was he supposed to say? Should he apologize for being so horny that he couldn’t keep his hands off of the man hired to dance for him? _Dance_ being the key word. A strip club might not be the most respectable of the places Michele had visited, but he was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to make a move on a member of their staff.

Still, they continued to stare at each other, Emil waiting for Michele to finish what he was going to say and Michele waiting for the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

“I...” he tried again, gaze flicking down to Emil’s lips, which were parted slightly as the other drew in ragged breaths, probably from the effort he’d exerted holding himself up and grinding his hips above him. “Emil...”

Suddenly, Michele could feel every inch of the other man pressed against him. His weight on his lap, the feel of his chest rising and falling with each breath, the way his solid, muscular arms and legs had him caged, trapped on the chair.

Shit.  

Michele wasn’t sure who moved first, but it didn’t matter because Emil’s lips were now pressed against his. He whimpered in the back of his throat, releasing his death grip on the chair and moving to twist his fingers in the other man’s hair, tugging slightly so he could take a breath.

“Mickey...” Emil moaned against his lips.

“Emil...” he replied, voice lewd, _wrecked_ as he slid his tongue into the other’s mouth, running it over the points of his teeth before drawing back to suck on Emil’s lower lip.

How long had it been since he’d been intimate with anyone? Work kept him busy and he was always worrying about Sara. But Sara was the last person he wanted to think about at the moment.

Emil finally responded, deepening the kiss further and bringing his hands up to cradle the back of Michele’s head. “Mickey...” he breathed, rolling his hips forward and swallowing Michele’s stuttered moan. “Oh, Mickey...”

Michele was teetering on the edge. Everything Emil was doing felt _so good_. He’d never felt anything like it. The heat coiling in his gut was overwhelming. He dropped his hands from Emil’s hair to grip at his back, his blunt nails digging into his flesh as he met the other’s thrusts.

“ _C-Cazzo si_...” Michele choked out, tossing his head back.

Emil went with it, kissing along Michele’s jaw and down his neck, his hips never stopping their rhythmic grinding. And when one of his hands made its way to the front of Michele’s shirt, undoing the first few buttons before he accidentally brushed against his nipple, Michele lost it.

“EMIL!” He clenched his eyes shut, his hips rutting up against the other man’s as he came, heat spreading through his entire body.

Once his shudders subsided, Michele opened bleary eyes, barely able to focus on the man in his lap. 

He’d never... Not like that... With anyone...

His tongue felt too big for his mouth, the words too hard to form as his body still tingled, buzzing with a kind of satisfaction he’d never experienced before. But slowly, he came back to his senses. And when he did...

“Shit.” Michele’s eyes widened. What had he just done? And with a complete stranger! His entire body felt cold as his stomach dropped. “Emil...I-”

But Emil silenced him, placing a finger to his lips. Then he gave Michele a wide, mischievous grin.

“I’m afraid our time is up,” he said, reaching forward and buttoning Michele’s shirt back up. “But my shift ends in an hour.” Emil bit his lower lip, almost looking shy. “Can you wait for me until then?”

Michele knew he should have said ‘no.’ He should have paid him for his trouble, found Sara, and left the club, vowing never to return to such a place again. But there was something about Emil. Something that made Michele _want_. Want in a way he’d never wanted before.

So, he nodded, his tongue coming out to lick his dry lips. “Yeah. I can wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho ho ho~ Well, that looks like it needs a continuation, doesn't it?  
> What do you guys think?
> 
> Let me know and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com) or on my nsfw blog [@xxxjubesy](http://xxxjubesy.tumblr.com).


	5. Michele

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was asked for a continuation, so...please enjoy!!  
> There will be three more parts, counting this one.

By the time the fog of delightful delirium cleared from Michele’s mind, he was already on his feet, brushing past the curtain of the now empty private dance room. Emil had given him a quick peck on the lips before saying he was expected backstage.

Michele continued past the bar, shuffling his feet in an attempt not to disturb the sticky mess he’d made in his pants - which was becoming more and more uncomfortable with each step. Plus, when he felt it, he immediately thought back to the cause. Emil - far too sexy than was truly fair - had brought him over the edge, returning his kisses eagerly and grinding against him in the most perfect of ways.

Good lord, he wanted to do it again.

But his thoughts of finding the other man were interrupted by his sister’s cheery voice. She had a bright smile on her face as she greeted him. She was still seated at their table, but their drinks were gone and she’d already left a tip.

“So?” she asked, eyes alight with mirth and curiosity. “How was it?”

Michele swallowed and then cleared his throat. “How was what?”

Sara’s face fell as she frowned. “ _How was what?_ ” she mimicked and then rolled her eyes. “How was your private dance with Emil?” She was looking up at him, bouncing her knee excitedly as she awaited his answer.

“It was...” he trailed off, chewing on his bottom lip. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. Amazing? Fantastic? Mind-blowing? Unlike anything he’d ever experienced? All of those were true, but did he want to tell his baby sister that?

“Well?” She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. Just then the lights dimmed again, signalling the start of another dancer’s performance.

“It was...a bad idea,” Michele said quickly, grabbing her by the arm and gently urging her out of her seat. “And I’d really like to leave now.”

“What? Are you serious?” Sara deflated, giving him a pout. “I mean, it’s fine if you want to go, but I really thought the two of you-”

“Would what?” he asked, hurrying her along as they made their way through the suddenly very crowded bar toward the exit. “Thought we’d fall in love at first sight?”

“Well, no, obviously not.” Sara pulled away from him and glowered. “I just figured you two would hit it off. I mean, Emil is definitely your type.”

“He is not _my type_.” Michele pulled a face at her. “I don’t have a type.”

“Yes, you do.” She rolled her eyes. “And, even if you didn’t, Emil is _everyone’s_ type.”

“Not yours,” Michele countered, once again dragging her toward the exit.

“Of course not, I’m happily spoken for,” she replied with a fond smile. “But if Mila and I ever decided to mix things up, we agreed that we’d ask-”

“Please, don’t finish that sentence.” Michele held his hand up. The bouncer moved to the side as they approached and then opened the door for them. Michele nodded his head in thanks and walked briskly outside.

“I get that you weren’t all that into it, but you could have at least let me say ‘goodbye’,” she reasoned, wrapping her arms around herself as she stepped out into the cool late night air.

Say goodbye. Shit. He knew he’d forgotten something. Michele had promised to wait for Emil. How awful would it be to just leave without a word? He could picture Emil’s face now, hopefully scanning the audience for Michele and then resembling a kicked puppy when he couldn’t find him.

Michele wasn’t heartless.

“Do you have Emil’s number?” he asked and Sara shook her head.

“He doesn’t give out his personal number,” she explained. “But I’m his fan on-”

“Damn!” he growled and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, listen.” He raised his arm and hailed a cab. “You head home.”

“By myself?” she asked, more surprised than appalled. Michele barely let her leave their apartment unchaperoned - unless, of course, she was with Mila.

“I’ll follow later on. I forgot something...inside,” he explained, opening the taxi door and practically shoving her in.

“If you’re sure...” She obviously had her suspicions, but she asked nothing further when Michele nodded his head. “I’ll see you later tonight, then, Mickey.”

“Don’t wait up,” he said and closed the door. Of course, he had _meant_ that he wanted her to get a good night’s sleep. It was only after he’d said it that he realized another way it could be taken. 

Ignoring how he’d just embarrassed himself, Michele squared his shoulders and stepped back into the club, still trying to walk normally, given his current situation.

In fact, although Emil knew exactly what had happened in that room, Michele didn’t really want to greet him in such a state. The club was dark, as was the fabric of his pants, but even so...it wasn’t right.

Since he didn’t have Emil’s number, he opted for asking one of the staff if they could relay a message for him. Thankfully, the bartender didn’t give him a strange look at the request. She even said she’d make sure Emil got Michele’s note.

And, not wanting to risk running into Emil before he left, Michele quickly jotted down his name and cell phone number. But then he thought of something. He didn’t really want to go all the way home and come back. And he certainly didn’t want to invite Emil into the apartment he shared with his sister.

Then Michele remembered the hotel he’d seen down the block. It had stood out to him because it was one of the few places on the street that didn’t have bright neon letters in its windows, advertising what types of liquor the establishments had to offer. It seemed nice enough, so Michele added that Emil should meet him there.

When he finished writing, he handed both the pen and the cocktail napkin back to the bartender and thanked her. Then he walked back outside and turned toward where he remembered the hotel to be. He shivered and moved faster, wanting nothing more than to take a shower and change before he met with Emil again.

He'd worry about mentally preparing himself for said meeting after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Mickey.  
> I hope this installment was worth the wait! Thanks for being patient during my mini-hiatus, you guys!!  
> Do you like it? The next part stars Emil~
> 
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com) or on my NSFW blog [@xxxjubesy](http://xxxjubesy.tumblr.com)!


	6. Emil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back in Emil's head for this chapter!  
> Special thanks to Harmonde for coming up with the fabulous idea of Chris owning the club! ♥
> 
> Un-beta'd. Please enjoy!

Emil hummed to himself as he made his way backstage. There was a bounce in his step and he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.

He’d finally gotten to meet _the_ Michele Crispino. The man he’d been wondering about ever since one of his regulars just _had_ to show him a picture of her older brother on her phone. Sara had giggled and said, “Honestly, Mickey is probably not your type, but-” Oh, was she ever wrong.

Michele was gorgeous, a little shy, but surprisingly bold. He seemed grumpy, but Emil had seen his smile. Only in the twin selfies on Sara’s phone, of course, but, oh, how he wanted to see Michele’s beautiful smile in real life.

Then again, the face Michele had made when he came was a fantastic consolation prize.

Emil could barely contain his giddiness. Michele had not only allowed Emil to give him a private dance, but he had actually participated. He’d touched him, kissed him, and damn, if Emil hadn’t heard the song cue, he would have stayed in there and let him do more.

“Well, well, well,” his boss sang as Emil walked through the curtain. “ _Somebody_ got lucky!” 

“No, I didn’t,” Emil answered, but the other man saw through him in an instant.

“Emil Nekola, if you think for a moment that I wouldn’t recognize the shit eating grin of man who’d just gotten laid, you are sorely mistaken.” Christophe Giacometti was young, only a few years older than Emil, and he had once been the club’s number one dancer. He still held that title, honestly, but after he bought the joint, he let others share the spotlight. Currently, Emil was the most requested.

“I didn’t get laid,” Emil replied, cheeks tinting. 

“But _something_ happened behind that curtain,” Chris puckered his lips and batted his eyelashes.

“How did you-”

“There isn’t a thing that goes on in my club that I don’t know about,” Chris interrupted and then paused, grabbing a shaker from the table and dusting a dancer with glitter before allowing him to walk out on stage. “Much better,” he mused, bringing a finger to his chin and then turning back toward Emil. “So?”

“Yes?” Emil knew he couldn’t hide anything from him. It was written all over his face.  _‘I got Michele Crispino off and he agreed to wait for me after my next set,’_ in a bold font, italicized.

“So, tell me all about it,” Chris continued. “Was he that boy you’re always talking about? I think I saw him come in with one of our regulars.”

Had Emil mentioned Michele to anyone before? He was pretty sure he’d kept his little crush a secret. Then again, he’d been told before that he was an open book.

After trying for approximately three seconds to avoid answering, Emil gave in. “Yes!” he shouted, excitement swirling in his belly. “Oh, Chris, he’s amazing! He’s so sexy and at first I thought he’d be too nervous to enjoy himself, but-” he stopped when he realized Chris’s eyes were sparkling, his smile unbelievably wide. “What?”

“Sounds like you’re in love, _mon chou_ ,” he teased.

Emil’s eyes widened and his ears burned. “In love?” He swallowed. “It’s a little too soon for that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” Chris bit his lip. “But it’s got potential,” he provided. “I mean, just _look_ at your face. You’re positively glowing!”

Was he? He certainly felt like it.

Being with Michele had felt...like coming home. It was so strange, since they’d never met before and yet, he was so comfortable with him. Like they shared a connection somehow. And Michele must have felt something, too, because he promised to wait for him.

“So, are you going to see him again?” Chris asked, walking over to a rack and searching for the missing parts of Emil’s costume. He couldn’t exactly strip as he was, wearing only his spandex shorts and rhinestone-encrusted Chuck Taylors.

“Yeah,” Emil said dreamily, picturing Michele’s blushing face. “He said he’d wait until my shift was over.”

“Is that right?” Chris glanced over his shoulder and winked. “Congratulations! Don’t forget to use protection.”

Emil’s face flushed hotly. “Chris, we only just met.”

“And you got him off in the private dance room, did you not?”

“H-How...?” Emil’s jaw dropped.

“Oh, _mon chou_ , a mother always knows.” Chris winked again.

It took him a moment to recover, but when he did, he fought valiantly to defend Michele’s honor. “He’s not like that! I mean...sure things got a little...” he paused, chewing on his bottom lip, “Uh.”

“Heated?” Chris offered, looking more proud than Emil had ever seen him.

“Yes, but,” Emil went on. “I’m sure he just wants us to talk and get to know each other better,” he explained. “Just like I-” But he was interrupted by one of the bartenders pulling back the curtain.

“Oh, there you are, Emil,” she greeted. It wasn’t odd for her to come backstage. She often had to relay messages and got tired of playing telephone with her bouncer husband. “I have a note for you,” she sang, striding forward and handing him a cocktail napkin. He reached for it, but Chris was faster.

“Michele Crispino, huh?” he read aloud. “Nice name.”

“Chris.” Emil managed to get the note from him and quickly scanned it, eyes going wide. “A hotel?” He looked up just in time to see Chris give him a knowing smile.

“Protection,” he reminded him. “Go grab some from my bag,” he offered before making his way back to the rack and pulling out one of his own outfits. “And don’t keep him waiting.”

Emil furrowed his brow. “But I have one more set.”

“No, you don’t.” Chris spun around, clutching a shimmering outfit to his chest. “I’ll cover for you.” He beamed. “I wouldn’t want to get rusty.”

“Oh, you’re going to perform?” The bartender clapped her hands excitedly. “I better go tell Minako-san to slow down before she’s too drunk to watch you properly!” And, with that, she disappeared. 

Guilt washed over Emil. He was excited to see Michele, but he couldn’t just leave before his shift ended.

“Don’t give me that look,” Chris snorted. “Just make sure you show that Italian Stallion of yours a good time.”

After that comment, Emil felt significantly less guilty.

“Now, go. Before I change my mind,” he said and shooed Emil over toward the dressing room.

A few minutes later, Emil was showered and in his street clothes, the cocktail napkin clutched in his hand. He recognized the name of the hotel. It was only a short walk from the club. Though, he wished he had more time to prepare himself. It seemed like only seconds had passed before he was walking through the sliding glass doors.

Things seemed to be moving pretty quickly. Sure, Emil wanted to see Michele again, but he thought maybe they’d talk over drinks or go for a stroll. He hadn’t expected to be invited to the other’s hotel room.

Realizing he was loitering in the lobby, he unfolded the note - which was crumpled and a little damp from his sweaty palms - and took out his phone. He’d just give Michele a call to see which room he was in.

The phone rang and rang, but the other didn’t answer. Emil sighed and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“May I help you, sir?” the man at the front desk asked.

“Oh, uh...yes?” Emil approached the counter. “Do you know what room Michele Crispino is in?” he asked.

The other man didn’t answer, but his fingers glided across his keyboard. “Mr...Emil?” He raised a brow, eyes not leaving the screen.

“Yes. I’m Emil.” He realized then that he hadn’t told Michele his last name.

“Mr. Crispino asked us to give you a key.” He reached under the desk and pulled out a key card, sliding it across the counter. “Room 524, elevators are on your right.” He raised his head long enough to point and then went back to work.

Emil picked up the card and thanked him before heading toward the elevators. He was starting to feel nervous now. Well, that was a lie. Butterflies had been fluttering about in his stomach since Yuuko had given him Michele’s note.

He jumped when the elevator stopped on his floor, the doors opening with a startling ‘ding.’ Steeling himself, Emil walked out, checking the numbers by the doors until he found the one he was looking for.

Emil had a key, but he thought it would be rude just barging in, so he knocked. After a few seconds with no answer, he knocked again. He began to wonder if Michele was even there. What if he’d left the note and then changed his mind?

But he shook his head. Michele didn’t seem like that kind of person. Then again, he didn’t seem like the type to invite him to a hotel first thing - even considering what they’d done in the private room.

Deciding that he’d spent enough time staring a hole in the hardwood, Emil slid his key in the reader and opened the door.

To his disappointment, Michele was not in the room. Emil was about to turn around and go home when the door to the bathroom opened and Michele walked out, hair damp and wearing only a small, white towel around his waist. He didn’t seem to have noticed him standing there yet.

Emil opened his mouth to announce his presence, but the words died on his tongue as a droplet of water fell from Michele’s hair and landed on his shoulder, sliding along his collar bone before making its way down his chest and stomach and disappearing beneath the white terrycloth.

“Emil!” Michele’s startled gasp caught his attention. “You...” He tried to cover himself, but it was too late. “You’re early!” Michele spat, face flushing bright red.

Emil just stood there, not sure how to reply. The only words that made it past his lips were, “You’re naked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill. Let me know what you think and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com) or on my nsfw blog [@xxxjubesy](http://xxxjubesy.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Not sure if the next chapter will make the rating go up...thoughts?


	7. Michele

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!! Emil and Mickey are finally in the same room again~  
> I'd like to take this opportunity to thank @lizardcool17 for giving me the prompt that led to me creating this monstrosity. You rock!! ♥
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely Nerily ^^  
> Please enjoy!!

The first thing Michele did when he made it to his hotel room was peel off his pants and underwear. Although he’d definitely enjoyed what he and Emil had done, he found the aftermath of their encounter to be decidedly less sexy.

And it was only after he’d removed his ruined clothing that he realized he had nothing to change into. He honestly hadn’t thought it’d be that bad. His cheeks burned at the mess he’d made. But, setting those thoughts aside, he threw his clothes into the sink and then started the shower.

The water felt heavenly. It was just the right temperature and it washed away his tension along with the stickiness.

Michele lost track of time and, when the water started to run cold, he turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower. There was a white towel waiting for him on a small shelf above the toilet, but he was disappointed to find it was quite small. Didn’t this hotel realize the size of its guests? And Emil was even taller than him. He could only imagine how little of the other man the towel would cover.

Then, memories of Emil’s half naked body flashed through Michele’s mind, causing him to blush.

He’d actually done that. He’d followed his sister to a strip club, went off with its most popular dancer, and then ground against him until he came.

“ _Cazzo_.” His blush deepened and his ears burned. He wondered if that was a usual occurrence for Emil. Did all of his private dance customers get off? Or was Michele special?

He shook that thought immediately. He was one of many. But the fact that Emil had wanted to meet with him again...that _had_ to mean _something_. 

Perhaps Emil had felt it, too. The...connection. It was strange. Michele hadn’t dated many people and he’d been intimate with even less - never comfortable enough with any of them to go all the way - but with Emil, he felt like he could. He trusted him. Which was crazy! He’d only _just met_ him!

And yet, when he pictured Emil’s smiling face, something warm bubbled up in his chest.

But those were dangerous thoughts for someone who was meeting up with a stripper to...what? Talk? He wasn’t sure. So, he pushed the thoughts of destiny and fate aside and wrapped the towel around his waist.

He still had some time until Emil was done with his shift, so he thought he might call room service and see if they could launder his soiled clothing for him. He stepped out of the bathroom, intent on doing just that, when he felt eyes on him.

Michele glanced over and saw, “Emil!” Oh, shit. He was here. He was here already. “You...” he began, suddenly feeling very exposed. His towel slipped lower on his hips and he fought to keep it from falling off completely. “You’re early!” he accused, though he wasn’t sure of what that made Emil guilty.

Emil stood there, staring at him, and Michele could practically feel those eyes caressing his skin. Finally, Emil spoke. “You’re naked.”

Michele blinked and then drew his brows down. “W-Well...of _course_ I am!” he spat.  “I was taking a shower.”

Emil’s cheeks took on a rosy hue as he averted his gaze. “To...to clean up?” he offered, suddenly unable to look at Michele.

That struck him. Was Emil embarrassed, too? Michele just grumbled a quick, “Yes,” before staring at the ground.

For a bit, they were at an impasse, neither speaking and both only looking up when the other’s focus was elsewhere.

After what felt like an eternity, Emil spoke. “It’s Nekola.”

“What?” Michele snapped his head up, confused.

“My last name,” he explained. “It’s Nekola.”

“Oh.” Michele flushed.

They both looked away again and Michele, unsure what to do with himself, sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you...” he began, catching Emil’s attention. It was now or never. “Do you do that with everyone?”

Emil cocked his head to the side and Michele continued.

“What we did, I mean.” He plucked at the terrycloth around his waist, no longer feeling brave enough to look Emil in the eye.

“Mickey.” He was suddenly right in front of him. Emil got down on his knees and reached for Michele’s hands. “No, I’ve...that’s not something I normally...” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve danced for a lot of people, but that’s the first time I’ve let myself...” he paused, swallowing, “get carried away.”

“Oh.” Michele licked his lips nervously. “I see.”

“Mickey...why did you agree to meet me?” he asked.

That was a loaded question. It was partly because Michele had _liked_ what they’d done. But it was also because he’d _felt_ something with Emil. Something he’d never felt before with anyone else.

“I...I wanted...” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. “I wanted more.”

He could hear Emil’s sharp intake of breath. Then the hand on his was gone and he feared he’d scared him off. But then the bed dipped beside him.

“More?” Emil asked, his warm breath stirring the hair above Michele’s ear. He shivered at the sensation and turned to face him. “More of what?”

Michele brought a hand up, caressing the side of Emil’s face before brushing the pads of his fingers over his lips. He looked into his eyes, forcing himself to say it before he lost his nerve. “More of you.”

Again, it was hard to tell who initiated it, but Michele didn’t care. His eyes slipped closed and he let out an embarrassing moan as Emil’s lips touched his. It hadn’t been that long, but he’d missed the feel of them. Their warmth, their softness, and the slick and sinful teasing of his tongue.

“Emil...” he groaned, grabbing fistfuls of the other’s hair. He fell back onto the mattress, one of Emil’s large hands cradling his head. “Ah... _Emil_...” He tore his lips away and panted for breath, his mind hazy.

“Mickey,” Emil echoed, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck. “Me, too,” he swore, pulling back and cupping Michele’s cheek. “I want so much more of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you’re thinking. “It can’t end there!” And it doesn’t!! There’s going to be a separate one-shot to follow coming soon~
> 
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com) or on my nsfw blog [@xxxjubesy](http://xxxjubesy.tumblr.com)!


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